


A Short Supplement to My LotF Monster AU

by chinchillasinunison



Series: Lord of the Flies Monster AU [1]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Gen, One Shot, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinchillasinunison/pseuds/chinchillasinunison
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. There's not much plot or anything, it's just for fun.





	A Short Supplement to My LotF Monster AU

Jack’s eyes opened to the bright blue sky hanging above him, dotted only by a few wispy clouds. So expansive was it that it took up his entire field of view. He yawned, and was about to sit up and stretch, but a voice momentarily caught his attention.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

It was Maurice’s voice, that was sure, but for some reason it sounded… off. Worried. And coming from the typically bubbly Maurice, that was very troubling.

“You okay, Mo?” Jack asked as he craned his head back to look towards the source of the voice. Oddly enough, he couldn’t be found at first, but sure enough, upon closer inspection he saw Maurice’s tanned hand sticking out from behind a rock, where presumably the rest of him was hiding.

“What’re you doing back there?” asked Jack playfully, now thinking this was just another one of Maurice’s jokes.

“Well, I wanted to spare you from the shock of it so early in the morning...” Maurice said, still sounding quite serious, which Jack supposed was part of the gag, “but you’d find out soon enough anyway, so I guess I might as well ease you into it myself...”

With this, the hand drew out with the rest of the arm, along with the rest of Maurice, and Jack flopped over onto his belly to get a clearer picture of his friend. But he was… different now. The first thing Jack noticed was that the normally dark brown curly hair the boy sported was now pure white. That wasn't too bad, until he saw the patch of white on his nose, and how the whole thing seemed a good deal flatter and more snout-like than before. Then there was the matter of the ears, also white and furry and not human at all. And then, Maurice opened his eyes. It was as if he knew it would be his most shocking facial feature, so he saved it for last. They were still the normal green color, but it practically over took the whites, and his pupils were oblong and horizontal. When he crawled out completely, he revealed that his legs and hindquarters had transformed fully into those of a fleecy little lamb.

“Sh… sheep…” Jack uttered, as that was all he could muster in his horror.

Jack drank it in more as Maurice stood up.

He pointed up to him, “You're a sh--”

Wait. What is that? That's not his hand that he's using to point. That's not even _a_ hand!

“Wha…?”

He curled the appendage more into his line of sight to get a better look at it. Yes, the structure of this thing was something he recognized, but he could hardly grasp the fact that it was there, attached to him, and his arm wasn't. It was a wing. A giant bird’s wing, the outside feathers a brownish red and the inside ones a cream color.

Jack shrieked, jumping into the air, the wings wildly flapping about. Yes, wings. It happened to both his arms, apparently. In the top and bottom fringes of his vision there were seas of red and creamy feathers. He ceased, landing on his rear, and sat, watching his puffy, speckled chest feathers rise and fall. It was his whole body, his whole body was covered in plumage. And his legs… under the feathery haunches, they were bright yellow, with sharp black talons, and, of course, the feet resembled a bird's far more than those of a boy. He rattled off a few husky “no”s, digging his claws in the sand, backing into a tree.

“M-Maurice!” he squawked after a few minutes of gawking at himself, “What did you do to me?!”

“ME?! Wh-what makes you think _I_ did it?!”

Jack had no rebuttal to that, so he just went quiet again. Really, he didn't think that at all, he just wanted someone to yell at in the heat of the moment.

“Mo, what's my face look like?” he asked, his voice weak.

“Mostly the same,” Maurice admitted, nodding, “...except for the beak.”

“The… beak…”

Jack ran his wings down his face, and felt that cold, hard, hooked thing that replaced his nose and lips.

“The beak.”

He buried his face in his wings and moaned, his voice muffled by the plumage, “Oh God, I’ve been turned into a giant chicken!”

“Hey, come on, Jack! It's not that bad!” Maurice tried to console his friend, “Your beak’s too crooked and pointed to be a chicken’s, and the tip’s all black. You look more like some kinda hawk to me.”

“Oh, who cares?!” Jack cried, “Either way, I’m still not a person anymore! I'm a big, ugly bird!”

“Hey, look on the bright side! You may be a freak, but at least you're not alone!” Maurice sat down beside him, “I mean, just look at me! I'm only a few steps away from a lamb chop!”

Jack stared at him for a few seconds.

“Are you… wearing a bell around your neck?”

Maurice peered down and saw the worn metal object he was referring to, which he hadn't noticed before.

“Huh. 'spose I am.”

He stated it matter-of-factly, then said, grinning sneakily, “You know, you're mighty observant. I guess it wouldn't be easy for somebody to… pull the wool over your eyes.”

“Oh, _boo_!” Jack jokingly disapproved of the pun, pushing him away in mock aggression, “Boo! That was terrible!”

Maurice responded with a giggle and pushed back. They both laughed and roughhoused for a bit, and soon Merridew's spirits were up again, or at least higher than they were before. They sat together quietly as Jack moved his wing about curiously, stretching it out and tucking it by his side over and over.

“It's strange…” he said aloud, “It's like my arm… feels like it… but at the same time… it doesn't. I mean, I have nearly all the same bones and muscles and things, but they're all a bit different in size and shape and all that. It's going to take a while to get used to...”

“Trust me, you don't even know the half of it!” Maurice proclaimed, “Just try walking around with _these_ things!” he stuck his sheep leg up into the air, “It's a nightmare! It's like you're walking on your tiptoes all the time! I fell over myself a dozen or so times before you woke up.”

Jack looked down at his scaly yellow legs, making grabbing motions with his toes. Three facing forward and one pointing backward. God, what even happened to the fifth?

“I can't even imagine walking on these…”

“Well,” the sheep boy said with a shrug, “you're gonna have to, eventually.”

Jack nodded sadly.

“...do you want me to help?”

He nodded again.

Maurice propped Jack up by the shoulder, the huge wing wrapped around him like a shawl. His friend strolled along with him on wobbly, disproportionate bird legs, as he trotted smoothly on little black hooves. After a bit of practice, Jack let go and stumbled for a bit before falling on his face.

“God, I feel like a baby!” he lamented as Maurice helped him up again, “I have to learn how to walk again! ”

“All that whining you're doing doesn't help matters…” the sheep boy replied, cheeky.

Jack snapped his beak him, tongue planted firmly in his cheek. The pair laughed again.

Soon they spotted a figure sitting against the trunk of one of the palm trees nearby, looking to be in a deep sleep. By the long, black hair and the boy's build, it was quite obvious who it was.

“Roger! Hey Roger! Look at us!” Maurice called. The boy didn't stir.

He hadn't changed much at all, thankfully. No feathers or fur or extra limbs or anything. He was wearing a strange outfit now, however, something ornate and frilly and impractical for island weather. His skin, also, had taken on a sickly greenish-bluish hue. That, and there was an unpleasant yet indistinguishable odor radiating off him. What was it? Moldy cheese? Rotten meat? Whatever it was, it smelled of decay.

“Hey, Roger, you alright, buddy?” asked Jack, nudging his pal on the shoulder.

Roger's body slumped forward unconsciously in response to the prodding, and his head tumbled forward into the sand, leaving the body with only a bloody stump of a neck.

Jack screeched at the sight of it, flailing about until he fell on top of Maurice, who was also panicking. The pair scrambled into a sitting position and sat holding each other, shaking, not daring to take their eyes off it. Turning into sheep and hawk people was one thing, but this was on a whole other level of horrifying. That was their friend. Sure, he wasn't exactly the most approachable, or even decent person, but he was still their friend. And now he was dead. Obviously. His head was cut off and his flesh was moldy. He was as dead as a doornail by conventional standards. Or any standards, really.

So it really didn't make any sense when they heard muffled speech coming from the head’s direction.

Jack and Maurice looked at each other with wide, questioning eyes. Jack, with difficulty, stood himself up and slowly approached the severed head. It was hard enough getting used to these new legs on their own, but the trembling he was doing now made walking nearly impossible. He stood above the dreadful thing and, obviously not having hands anymore, gingerly grasped it with his talons and turned it over in the sand, so he could see the face.

It coughed up some sand and seemed to stare at him for a while.

“R-Roger...? Are you… okay?”

“Mmm? I… I’m fine, I think,” he said quietly, “What… what is that? Some kinda chicken suit? Where’d you find it?”

Jack's feathers ruffled, “I’m not a chicken! I'm a hawk! Isn't that right, Maurice?”

“Oh, look who cares now…”

“Shut up.”

Roger's head called up to him, “Hey, hey Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you… standing on top of me? Because it looks like you are, but I can't feel it… I’d like to get up sometime soon, ya know…”

Jack giggled at the head, coming to realize it didn't notice it was no longer attached to a body.

“Yeah, I’d love to see you try standing up, Roger…”

“Umm… Jack...?!”

That came from a very distressed Maurice.

Jack turned to him, “Yeah? Wh--”

Roger's headless body had lifted itself up and was wandering about blindly, and Maurice was watching it in horror.

“That's… that's queer…” stated Roger as Jack glanced back, “I can feel myself moving, but I can see I’m not…”

“Umm… Roger…” said Jack, pointing a wing in the body’s direction.

“Jack, you're gonna have to do something. I can't turn my head.”

Jack rolled his eyes and snatched Roger by the hair, lifting him up and showing him his own roaming body. It stiffened up when he laid his eyes on it, then his hands reached around the empty area where his head was supposed to be. The hands fell as the truth became quite evident.

“...well,” he said in a voice that was far too flat for the situation, “That explains… a lot…”

He made his body amble over to Jack and pluck his head out from the long, sharp claws. He held it at chest level and turned it about, observing the changes which occurred with the other two.

“So… should I ask how?”

“You can, but you won't get an answer,” said Maurice, shaking his head, the bell tied around his neck ringing.

“And everybody else?”

“Haven't seen 'em yet this morning,” Jack told him, “but we will. We’ll find them, and we'll sort this whole mess out, somehow, I'm sure of it. So let's get moving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I wrote for fun for my monster au, if I went with the idea of them being humans first and then turning into monsters. I was a bit embarrassed about posting it but I asked and some people wanted to read it, so...
> 
> In case you don't know, Jack is a siren (the bird kind), Maurice is a satyr (but based on a sheep instead of a goat), and Roger is a dullahan. The reason I don't call any of them that in the fic itself is because they don't really know what they are at this point in time. Also I won't be continuing this even if it seems like by the ending I will.


End file.
